


Opening Gambit

by hgdoghouse



Category: The Professionals
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-25
Updated: 2011-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hgdoghouse/pseuds/hgdoghouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>set after <i>Ojuka</i></p><p> </p><p>Bodie goes a-wooing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opening Gambit

Post _Ojuka_

Aggrieved to discover he had woken a good forty-five minutes before the alarm was due to go off, Bodie made himself comfortable and continued the train of thought on which he had fallen asleep, and which had given him some sweet if disjointed dreams.

Typical how you woke up when it got to the good stuff, he mused, wondering how to tempt his wholly desirable but thick-as-two-short-planks partner onto his back. Or his front. Any damn position he likes, Bodie thought, irritable because anxiety had never done much to sweeten his temper. He was accustomed to living with the adrenalin rush which came with his chosen life-style. What was new was the dragging clutch of terror which turned his bowels to water when Doyle was at risk and he wasn't with him. Watching Amoury's car turn into the driveway and having to obey orders and wait had been some of the worst few minutes of his life. Even worse than the bollocking Cowley had given him for not waiting long enough.

Forget it, he reminded himself briskly. Ray was more than capable of looking after himself. He certainly hadn't needed any help to free himself. The reminder brought little comfort, the hair-raising task of keeping Colonel Ojuka alive having concentrated his thoughts wonderfully - and not only about death. He wanted Ray Doyle and he was tired of being subtle about it.

Should just come right out and ask him. There was just one minor stumbling block - how to tempt Ray into his bed. With his full share of confidence, it was one of the rare occasions in Bodie's life when he had the niggling suspicion that natural charm wouldn't be inducement enough. Even worse, he hadn't been able to think of an opening gambit which hadn't made him cringe when he mentally tested it out.

It was easy with a bird, he thought, giving a pillow a savage thump. They were expecting it. They even made it easy for you.

He could wine Ray and dine him and flirt like crazy. But he'd already tried that. All that happened was that Ray stuffed his face, drank one and a half bottles of the finest red and went off to spend the night with his bird.

The trouble with Doyle was that subtlety was wasted on him, Bodie decided, taking the fact he was lying here alone despite various pointed hints as proof of that.

He'd have to tempt him, then. Grab his attention and move in fast.

Knowing what he'd rather grab, Bodie gave another weighty sigh and considered what he could offer his partner that Doyle couldn't get elsewhere. He came up with a dismally short list: incomparable technique, stamina - and affection. It wasn't much.

He could always try out and out seduction.

The idea appeared from nowhere. Examining it from every angle, Bodie decided to ignore the obvious pitfalls and go for it. Nothing ventured and all that. He would court, woo and finally win the sensual little sod. Everyone responded to warmth.

Plan A then. A few good meals, some nice wine... What else would Ray like?

Bodie already knew the realistic answer - two hubcaps for the Norton Doyle had been working on getting back on the road since the day of their teaming. Hubcaps were hardly the stuff of romance. Besides, there were none to be had - he'd already tried to get them, discovering in the process that Norton fanciers were so besotted that they hoarded every rusting part, irrespective of its current usefulness to them.

So what else would Ray like - apart from the new barmaid at _The Talbot_?

Bodie frowned and tried again. A season ticket to watch Spurs would hit the spot. He frowned. While he knew the gift would be an instant success, he also knew it would do nothing to further his cause. The odds of being able to whisper anything in Ray's less-than-shell-like ear were remote to non-existent. If Ray went to watch football Bodie knew from bitter experience that football was all he would see, hear, talk about and breathe.

Maybe a spot of culture was the answer - and not the sort that grew on sausages when they had been left in the fridge for too long.

His mind an uncultured blank, Bodie frowned up at the ceiling. Opera and ballet were out. There were some things he wasn't prepared to suffer through, even for the pleasure of bedding Ray Doyle. Not that Ray would want them anyway. It would almost be worth fixing something up just to see the look of horror on his face, Bodie thought happily. It was hardly the way to start a successful seduction though.

The theatre? Bodie gave a reminiscent grin. They hadn't tried going to the theatre often, quite apart from the fact there was rarely anything they wanted to see once the fashion for nude shows had ended. At least the nude _Hamlet_ had been good for a laugh. That aside, if they didn't get called in by Cowley they fell asleep in the boring bits, or got complaints from those people in adjoining seats who didn't appreciate their audible asides in dull moments. They weren't much better at the cinema. His grin widened as he remembered the night they'd gone to see _Last Tango in Paris_. Though that had been Ray's fault that they'd got chucked out, he thought righteously. Coarse bugger. But funny with it.

Bet he's inventive enough.

Bodie fidgeted beneath the bed covers, his hand settling over himself with a comfortable familiarity. While it was undoubtedly a solitary occupation, he'd never been able to understand why it should be described as a vice. You couldn't beat the personal touch.

It was a certainty that Ray could.

Already down to the short strokes, the thought was enough to finish Bodie and he came with sensual abandon, unhurriedly mopping himself dry with the sheet when he had finished.

It would be lovely with Ray, he thought, his mouth drooping with a trace of wistfulness. Everything else was. Even stakeouts were better. He could see no reason why sex should prove the exception to the rule.

So, mount an assault.

Unfortunate choice of word, _mount_ , conjuring up yet another heady image. Bodie's eyes hazed with lust.

The insistent shrill of the alarm clock cleared them.

There was no point wandering around in a randy haze. First he had to win Doyle, he reminded himself, padding through to put on the kettle before he went into the bathroom.

He could always trying bribing Ray with a few treats.

Fine. Like what? Chocolate? Bodie's toothbrush slowed. No point, he realised. Doyle didn't eat it. Abnormal that, someone who didn't eat chocolate. It was his only major flaw though.

Clothes, jewellery, music... Bodie spat toothpaste with vigour, discarding each idea as it occurred to him.

Champagne. Doyle liked champagne. And caviar. Doyle would, he thought indulgently. Prepared to buy some decent bubbly when he had something to celebrate, he toyed with the idea of caviar. His nose wrinkled. Fish eggs weren't his idea of a romantic present.

Flowers, that was the answer, he decided, rubbing a soapy armpit under the shower. A nice big bunch of... What the hell should he get? Rinsing himself clean, Bodie worried this new problem, aware he didn't have much experience in this field. The only time he'd given anyone flowers she'd been in hospital. As he remembered, Clare hadn't been that grateful. Ray might like them though, he thought, with more hope than expectation. It would be nice to buy them for Ray. But what flowers should he get?

It took some effort to come up with the name of a single flower, his interest in matters horticultural sketchy.

Fuchsias. Or was it freesias? The smelly things they sold outside tube stations. Nah, they weren't very classy.

Violets? No. Ray was hardly the shrinking type.

What were those things the best man always had stuck in his button hole? Carnations, that was it. No, too naff for words. Chrysanthemums? No way. They smelt like something two days dead at the best of times. And lilies were out. They'd seen too many on funeral wreaths. Roses! Why the hell hadn't he thought of them before? That was it. Red roses. You'd be hard-pressed to get more romantic than red roses, Bodie decided, only then discovering he should have left for work ten minutes ago.

 

His manner a little abstracted all day, Bodie decided to waste no time. He called round at Doyle's flat that evening. To his relief Doyle was in and, more importantly, alone.

Busy trying to stuff one more dirty shirt into a laundry bag as Bodie let himself in, Doyle looked up with a smile of welcome.

"Evening. Blimey, you smell fragrant," he added with a pointed sniff.

Pinned by an all-encompassing stare and beginning to think the aftershave had been a mistake, Bodie gave a self-conscious twitch.

"At least I made the effort," he said defensively. He couldn't help wondering how the more sensitive parts of his anatomy were going to survive Doyle's stubble-darkened chin.

"Well, I hope she'll prove to be worth all this effort. I'm surprised you're not in a dinner jacket." Doyle broke off to mutter an obscenity as he managed to tear the heavy duty plastic laundry bag, spilling half the contents onto the floor. Glaring at the resultant mess, he bent and began to pick everything up.

One shoulder propped against the wall, Bodie openly enjoyed the view.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?" asked Doyle, righting himself. "And what's that you're hiding behind your back?"

Beginning to wish he was somewhere -anywhere - else, Bodie brought the bouquet into view rather than endure an unseemly scuffle.

"Flowers! Since when have you had to resort to flowers?" demanded Doyle, sauntering forward to inspect them more closely. "It was always your proud boast you could get by without, as I remember. They're pretty though." He brushed the cellophane with a fingertip.

"That's what I thought." Bodie ignored the first part of that speech.

"So how come I haven't met the lady who's inspired this devotion?" Doyle added, unaware of the proprietorial note in his voice.

Bodie, however, was not. It was the sweetest thing he'd heard in a long time. More confident that he was on the right track, he tossed the bouquet onto a chair and made himself comfortable on the sofa, appropriating Doyle's half-finished drink as he did so.

"Make yourself at home," suggested Doyle dryly, standing in front of him.

"What makes you think those flowers are for a lady? Am I interrupting anything?"

"Only me getting ready to do the washing. It can wait." The earliest part of Bodie's reply sinking in, Doyle ground to a halt with an audible swallow. Taking a deep breath, he lost his nerve and went and poured himself a large scotch

Giving Doyle's back a fond grin, Bodie got to his feet, knowing by this time that if he played his cards right Doyle would do all that was necessary - thus saving him potential embarrassment. As he had known he would, Doyle broke the silence, having downed his drink in two swallows.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You can certainly ask," Bodie agreed cheerfully, enjoying the novelty of an uncertain Ray Doyle.

"On second thoughts, I won't bother," said Doyle, the change in his voice bringing Bodie's head up. "No point, is there," he added. "I'll just stick those roses in the sink before we go upstairs."

"What for?" said Bodie, disconcerted to hear his voice pitched higher than he was used to.

"So I can show you my etchings. Why d'you think? Don't be coy."

This brisk, matter of fact tone not the response he had anticipated, Bodie's jaw dropped.

"And spare me the look of outraged virtue. It doesn't do a thing for you," said Doyle with asperity. "Particularly after the way you've been sniffing around me. Go on up, I won't be a tick."

"I don't sniff," Bodie said indignantly, sticking to what was important.

Doyle shrugged.

"You're taking this a bit bloody casually, aren't you?" Bodie added in outrage.

Doyle stared at him for what seemed like a very long time.

"No," he said at last, "I'm not."

"Me neither," Bodie gruffly told the floor. "It'll be all right, Ray. You'll see."

"I'll be bloody peeved if it isn't, the amount of time I've spent thinking about it," Doyle retorted. "I started to wonder if we'd be old and grey before you got round to it." Realising what he had let slip, he glanced at the hand encircling his wrist, as if finding it unfamiliar all of a sudden.

"So... You've been giving the idea some thought," said Bodie encouragingly.

"About the same as you, I expect."

"That much?" Bodie gave a wry grin. "No wonder your temper's been a bit erratic recently." His free hand settled on Doyle's flank.

While he acknowledged the truth of that with a grin, Doyle made no attempt to respond in kind. "Why the flowers?"

Bodie studied the wall, as if to deny any hint of embarrassment. "I wanted to get you something. I couldn't get hold of those hubcaps you've been after. Besides, roses are more romantic," he added defiantly.

"True. Hubcaps?" Doyle queried. "I mentioned those months ago. You mean it's been that long for you?" Singularly at a loss, he stared at Bodie. "You really tried to get them for me?"

"Why not?" said Bodie, defensive now he had been caught out. "You went on about them enough."

"I might have done. In case it's escaped your notice I don't always talk about the things I want the most."

"I know but I wasn't sure if..." Bodie licked suddenly dry lips. "That is..."

Predictably, Doyle came to his rescue in his own inimitable fashion. "You stupid sod. Of course I do. Come on. I hope you're more eloquent in bed. Maybe I should just put those roses in water - "

The rest of the sentence was lost as Bodie yanked at the wrist he was still holding and set off up the stairs. They got halfway before pausing for several increasingly lengthy kisses.

"You always this masterful?" asked Doyle, having to come up for air.

"Only when I can get away with it," said Bodie honestly.

"That's what I thought. You'd better make the most of it then," said Doyle cheerfully, "because it all changes at the top of the stairs."

"It does?"

Fascinated, Bodie set off.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Written 1990
> 
>  
> 
> Published in the newsletter _The Hatstand Express 18_
> 
> Republished in _HG Collected 2_


End file.
